Friday, October 29, 2004

How do I know that there are too many political commercials on television? Because my four year-old son has been finishing every conversation by saying, “My name is Gabriel and I approved this message.”

I’m not making this up.

This is just one of the many reasons why my wife and I decided to permanently shut off our television during the week. I was completely prepared to let hours of unsupervised Cartoon Network soak into my children and turn them into unsociable, obese and mindless zombies.

But a politician? I’ve got to draw the line somewhere.

The taut irony, of course, is that I work as a cable technician for a really big cable company. So, enforcing a weeknight television ban is like a crack dealer instituting a strict sobriety rule in the crack house – you’re not really working from the moral high ground.

Still, in this particular crack house, the head dealer reluctantly admits that he, too, was spending too much time sampling the “product”. It suddenly occurred to me one Thursday night that I was watching three “CSI” shows. And that was just the “first run” stuff. Some nights, I actually caught CSI reruns on another channel.

Now, don’t get me wrong. There were some advantages. For instance, instead of mulling over the Iraq problem, I instead found myself wondering why Rory Cochrane decided to leave “CSI: Miami”. Was he pushed out? Did he leave on his own accord? Does he get to keep his wardrobe?

I can also do a perfect impression of David Caruso’s Horatio Cane character. Here’s how you do it. First, always wear sunglasses – especially if you’re inside. When speaking to people, put your hands on your hips and look to the left and down. Never look directly at the person. Finally, be apathetic toward males but go into complete “buddy mode” when dealing with a woman. Never, ever, get physically intimate with a woman. Let’s be realistic. Guys named Horatio rarely get laid.

I can only thank God that I got the “Law and Order” monkey off of my back before “CSI” debuted.

I knew quitting television during the week was going to be hard, but I never realized just how hard…

Next: The Family That Detoxes Together….

P.S.

While writing this installment in Word, Microsoft’s spellchecker politely informed me that “crackhouse” was not a compound word and was instead spelled “crack house”. Make note of it the next time you’re writing a police report or e-mailing your dealer. It’s the little things that keep us civilized.